


The One That Never Found You

by ever_neutral



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:01:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dishwashing.</p><p>[S2 setting]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One That Never Found You

  
“Hey, let me help you with that.”

Jo turns from the sink. “Nah, Sam, you don’t have to – ”

“Really.” Sam offers a dimpled smile, both bashful and earnest. “I insist.”

She makes a non-committal gesture. “Hey, if the _guest_ wants to do the clean-up for me, I’m not gonna complain.”

His chuckle is quiet, and mostly polite--but she’s flattered anyway. It’s not like there are too many guys who are willing to laugh _with_ her. (Or, any at all.) It definitely puts Sam ahead of his stubborn-as-hell brother. Not that she’s keeping score.

They lapse into comfortable dish-washing silence. Through the open door, snatches of Dean and Ellen’s conversation drift in. Jo makes out something about “my fool-headed daughter” and rolls her eyes.

“You know – uh – ” Sam breaks the silence, clears his throat awkwardly. “About my brother…” He stops, brow furrowed in anxiety.

She can’t help but find it terribly endearing. “Spit it out, Sam.”

“Well, you know. Dean is… ” Hunting for the right word, Sam finally settles on: “… Dean.”

She gives a half-smile. “Uh huh. Gotcha.”

“Right. Well.” Sam begins earnestly scrubbing a bowl. “Then you probably know what I’m gonna say next.”

She squirts more detergent into the filthy sink. “Ease up, Sam. I’m not a silly little schoolgirl with a crush. I don’t need protecting.”

“It’s not that,” he says hurriedly. “I mean. It kind of is that. But it’s not the only thing. What I mean is – ” Bowl clean, he shakes the water off and carefully places it in the adjacent drying rack. “Dean isn’t good at this stuff.”

She snorts. “Who is?”

“Right,” Sam agrees. “But Dean, man. He’s… a fragile soul.”

She drops the spoon she’s holding, and makes a sound that can only be described as a cackle.

Sam blushes, suddenly abashed.

“Oh God, Sam,” she says in a strangled voice. “Please say that to Dean’s face.”

Sam’s grin is sheepish. “I kinda did once. He, uh, hit me with a pipe.”

She shakes her head, redirects her attention to the cutlery. “So, what about you, Sam? How’s “stuff” treating you?”

“Uh.” He laughs, a low and weary sound. “It’s not exactly like we have much opportunity to foster relationships.”

She nods.

“It’s basically just me and Dean,” Sam continues, gingerly drying a steak knife. “There hasn’t really been anybody else. Not for a while.” He pauses then, eyes downcast.

Jo swallows. She’s never been good at this. “Hey, chin up, Sam,” she says, attempting lightness. “I’m sure there’s someone out there just waiting for you to walk through their door and rock their world.”

His answering smile is warm, and so genuine it puts her off balance, just a little bit.

“Hey Sammie, where’d you get to?” Dean appears at the door, drumming his fingers on the frame impatiently. “Oh, dude. Washing dishes? Seriously?”

Jo rolls her eyes again. Fragile soul indeed.

  
_end_  
  



End file.
